


the long way round

by Lou87



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 01, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23802616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lou87/pseuds/Lou87
Summary: How two people might just find their way back to each other.
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 84
Kudos: 278





	1. (judy)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so apparently I've decided to write a multi-chapter (let's hope I stick at it) and I've also got another story almost ready to post...this show has taken over my life.

She doesn't miss Steve.

It doesn't hit her until a month after That Night that she hasn't missed him at all.

And it seems strange to her that, after her previous absolute inability to let him go, she has accepted the finality of everything that happened as if he had never been part of her life at all.

She doesn't dream of him or wake up in a panic about his body, cold in the ground, ready to be spotted by some innocent passerby. What she does do is have nightmares about _her_ ; of Jen being torn away, of handcuffs and prison bars and of losing the most important person in her life.

On those nights, she sits at the pool to think, the rhythmic sound of the pump soothing her, and she watches the movement of the water, almost hypnotised. Jen had caught her once when she had been roaming the house in the late hours of the night; she had eyed Judy carefully, _suspiciously_ and then shuffled from the kitchen without even the barest acknowledgement.

Judy was used to Jen's practiced indifference; they interacted only in front of the boys, maintaining the facade that they both needed, both protecting each other's secrets for their own. Jen had practically demanded that she return to the guest house and Judy could hear the implication as loudly as if Jen had said the words (' _I need to keep an eye on you, to watch you and make sure you don't crumble'_ ) so Judy had returned and had accepted Henry's hug and Charlie's mumbled hello, as if it wasn't a shadow of everything that she'd had before.

She had tried, of course, to speak to Jen; in the mornings before the boys woke or in the quiet lonely hours while Henry and Charlie were with Lorna except there was always an _'I'm busy, maybe later'_ or an ' _I'm not ready to talk about this yet_ '.

So she waits and attempts a smile over breakfast or a half-hearted joke during dinner; Jen just looks at her with a blank expression, no hatred, no disgust, _nothing_. And that's the hardest part of all.

*

She approaches the kitchen quietly from the hall; she can hear Jen and Henry chatting as Jen makes dinner and the last thing she wants is to be on the receiving end of a withering scowl from Jen for interrupting their mother-son bonding time. So she lingers in the hallway and waits; she's about to make her presence known as their conversation dwindles when Henry starts to speak.

"Are you and Judy still friends?"

His innocent voice lingers in the air and Judy can almost see Jen's surprise at the question, can imagine how she schools her face to give the appropriate response.

"Of course we are Boop, why did you say that?" Her voice is too even and measured to be real; there's a lack of authenticity in her tone that thankfully Henry will be too young to understand.

Henry spins himself slightly on the bar stool, "Just...you said when she moved back that you were friends again..." He spins the other way around on the chair, oblivious to his mother's anxiety, "And you don't seem like it."

"Well, we are," Jen resumes chopping briskly, "I promise, we are. We're just both a little bit stressed with grown-up things, that's all," She pauses and Judy wonders if Jen has leant over to give his hand a squeeze or kiss his hair, "But I promise, we are friends again,"

Henry seems placated by her response and Judy hears a moment of silence fall over the pair so she takes that brief moment to walk casually through the door; Henry practically beams at her (her heart is so full at those times that she forgets she should hate herself) and bounces over, excitedly reciting his day at school and what they had learnt about volcanoes; Judy nods and smiles in the right places and she feels Jen's eyes on her the whole time.

"Okay, time to go wash up," She tells her son after a while, and he scampers off down the hall, "And tell Charlie dinner's ready!"

Henry runs up the stairs, the thumping of his feet echoing in the quiet kitchen as the two women look at everything but each other.

"Henry thinks we're not friends," Jen says out of nowhere, "And I told him that we are,"

Judy isn't quite sure what she's expected to say in response, "Oh o-okay...."

"So I think we better act as if we can tolerate each other," Jen adds, "I don't want either of them getting suspicious,"

"I mean, we _are_ still friends...aren't we?" Judy is fully aware of the falsity of her question but there is a part of her that wants to attempt to salvage _something_ out of this wreckage, to act as if she's managed to preserve _something_ she cares about.

Jen scoffs witheringly in response, narrowing her eyes as if she can't believe what she's heard, "Not really Judy, no."

"Right, sure, yeah, of course," Judy nods and ventures a look at Jen, "But I guess we need to pretend though, right....? For the boys?"

Jen sighs.

*

It goes better than she expected and it turns out they're both more adept at lying than she had imagined. She manages to elicit a genuine laugh from Jen one morning (she racks her brains later trying to remember what it was, in the vain attempt that she might be able to recreate a sound she's missed so much) and on an otherwise un-noteworthy Saturday morning in the kitchen, she moves around Jen to get a bowl for her her cereal and inadvertently touches the small of her back as she tries reach the back of the cupboard.

Except.

Jen doesn't freeze or avoid the touch or wince at the contact of her hand.

Instead, she reaches to the cupboard instead and pulls out the last bowl, handing it to her with the smallest hint of a smile; if Judy had blinked for even half a second, she would have missed it. But she didn't.

"Uh, thanks," Judy responds quietly, smiling back and in that moment, something clicks, ever so slightly, back into place.

And things start to change; there's still hesitation and awkwardness and Jen still looks at her with a suspicion that Judy worries will never leave.

But they talk; at first, their conversations revolve around the mundanity of work, about Judy's residents and then Jen's clients and then Lorna's thinly veiled insults that Jen imitates with an accuracy that makes Judy laugh. But later, they talk about the boys; about Charlie's sudden interest in school which Jen thinks is related to a girl in his study group and then about Henry's desire to go to Florida for the holidays to see alligators.

They sit on the sofa and watch re-runs of awful reality shows that they both hate and a glass of wine appears on one of those evenings, placed in front of the spot that's wordlessly been designated as hers.

"Oh, thanks..." Judy gestures at the wine as she sits down into the sofa and Jen shrugs nonchalantly as if it's nothing. Except Judy knows better, she _knows_ that Jen is saying quite a lot without saying anything at all.

And when Judy starts sipping at the wine, and Jen changes the channel to a show they both love to hate, it feels something like _them_ again.

*

Nine months after That Night, Judy declines dinner.

Henry is the first one that evening to notice her dress as she comes into the kitchen, coat hanging from one hand and trying to fix her earrings with the other, "Judy, you look pretty!"

"Aw, thanks Hen," She ruffles his hair fondly as he hugs her round the waist, "That's very kind of you to say,"

"He's right," Judy almost jumps at the sound of Jen's voice, hadn't even noticed her in the corner of the kitchen; Judy feels suddenly embarrassed and awkward as Jen approaches; there's a flicker in Jen's gaze, so quickly that she almost missed it, up and down her body, and out of nowhere, Judy feels like she doesn't want to go anywhere, "You do look very nice,"

Jen is cradling her glass of wine, leaning casually against the kitchen counter; she's wearing an old pair of sweatpants that Judy knows are her favourite and a hoodie that looks like it's seen better days. And Judy is supposed to be going out with a very nice man for a very nice dinner but she realises all she really wants to do is stay _here_ , with _her_.

Her phone buzzes in her purse, "Well, I better go," She says quickly, smiling at them both and makes her way to the door.

"Have fun!" Henry shouts out enthusiasically down the hall, waving eagerly as she turns to leave and she waves back with a grin on her face, "Love you Judy!"

"Love you too!" She responds in kind, and the smile she she sees on Jen's face stays with her the whole night.

*


	2. (jen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely positive comments; it means so much & I really appreciate it. I'm not particularly keen on how I've written this chapter but I really had to keep the story going so...here it is.

  
"Boy, do I need this," Chris sighs and practically downs his glass of wine and looks expectantly at her for more, "God, what a week..."

Jen doesn't pry and Chris doesn't offer anything else; mainly because she doesn't want to know any more, not now they've managed to salvage _something_ (albeit not their working relationship) and she supposes that Chris is the same, that he is enjoying their friendship without the looming grey cloud of Jen's anger not far away.

Jen just commiserates with him instead, pouring him another glass and one for herself. She settles into the sofa in her favourite spot.

"No Judy tonight?" He seems to look around the lounge as if she might pop up from behind the television unit.

"Ah no, she's on a date," The words feel uncomfortable in her mouth, like they shouldn't be there and she watches as Chris looks strangely surprised.

"A date? Really?" He takes a sip of his wine and looks contemplative, "Huh, I always thought you guys were...y'know?" He gestures with his hands as if she's supposed to understand what the fuck he's on about.

"You thought we were what?"

He shrugs as if it's obvious, "Well... _you know_....."

"No, I don't _know_ ," Jen pauses, trying to stifle her irritation; it's not Chris' fault she's in an odd mood this evening, even if he is fucking irritating sometimes, "You thought....?"

"Nothing, honestly, it's nothing," Chris is nervously eyeing her, "Not important,"

"Well, if it's not important then you can just tell me,"

He sighs, "I thought you were a thing,"

"A thing?"

"Yeah, like...a _thing_ ," He emphasises with a waggle of his eyebrows and takes a sip of his wine as if he's not said something completely fucking ridiculous.

"You thought we were a 'thing'? As in a _lesbian_ 'thing' ?" Jen whispers the word 'lesbian' although she isn't quite sure why, "Because we are absolutely not,"

"Okay, so I misread it," He shrugs again, "Anyway, so...."

She knows he wants to move on to something else and she knows they probably fucking should but she can't help herself, "Why did you think... _that_?"

Chris sits for a second, clearly contemplating the best response, "I'm not sure really, I always just get a vibe from you two y'know?"

"What vibe? A lesbian vibe?" Jen sighs, "I'm not a _lesbian_ Chris, you know I'm not, I was married to a man, for fucks sake,"

"And? So? FYI Jen, it's the twenty first Century, you don't have to be a lesbian to want to have sex with other women," Chris winks and she scowls back at him, "Oh come on, it doesn't matter does it?"

And he's right, it doesn't matter. Not really. Except, she doesn't like this feeling in the pit of her stomach that she's had since Henry blurted out that a man at the coffee shop had asked Judy on a date ( _"he thought she was my mom," Henry tells her outside the coffee shop after she finishes her work call, slurping the milkshake that Judy was inside paying for; she's standing next to The Man and she tries not to watch through the glass pane, tries not to work out whether Judy is interested or not_ ) She had rationalised it to herself that since all the shit with Steve had gone down, they had segued into a comfortable routine and that they had formed their own little family; Jen had told herself she was worried _for_ Judy, for the stability that they had created together being ruined.

But now, she's sitting in her lounge, Chris rambling about Alan's poor dog training techniques and all she can think about is Judy; is she enjoying her date? Has she smiled at him in that way where her whole face lights up? Has he made her laugh? Has he kissed her? Did she kiss him back?

Fuck, Jen thinks.

Fuck fuck _fuck_.

She likes Judy. She _likes_ Judy.

Yet, suddenly, everything starts to make sense and she ends up wondering how she managed to fucking miss it; the inevitablity of them both ending up cuddled on the sofa after a long day, the comfort she gets from a touch from Judy's hand or one of her tight hugs, the absolute and total fucking devastation that she had felt that night in the garage where she was convinced she had pushed her away forever.

She thinks of Judy's smile, her eyes, how fucking _beautiful_ she looked before her date earlier that night, that her heart had clenched at the sight of her, how she had barely been able to think properly with Judy in front of her looking like _that_...and yeah, Jen thinks to herself with a rueful smile, definitely into women now.

Chris carries on chatting away, more demonstrative and sassy with every glass of wine, and she laughs along (always keeping her eye on the time, checking her phone, waiting for _her_ ) and she feels strangely free, like a weight had been lifted that she didn't know was even there in the first place.

*

Jen hears the door unlock at 11.30pm; the lounge is dark with only the television illuminating the room and she mutes the volume, hears Judy's heels in the hallway, hears an "oops" as she bumps into something.

_I think I might love you_ , she thinks suddenly and the truth of it, the certainty of what she hadn't even realised several hours ago, scares the _shit_ out of her.

"Oh hey!" Judy says somewhat too loudly as she enters, and then winces, lowering her volume, "Was that Chris just leaving?"

Jen nods, watching Judy take off her heels, drop her bag on the floor and slump down onto the sofa next to her, "Yeah, apparently Adele has had a little _accident_ on the floor and Alan wasn't dealing with it alone so..."

"Ahhh," Judy nods, "Lucky Chris,"

They both fall silent for a moment, the muted television showing an old episode of a sitcom, "How was, er, the date?" Jen asks and feels a flame of jealousy in her stomach and _god_ , how had she not realised she felt like this about her.

"It was alright I guess," She sounds non-committal and relief blooms in Jen's chest, "He was _nice_ , the food was _nice_ , it was..."

"Nice?" Jen offers and Judy smiles back and _fuck_ , Jen thinks, it's like a sunbeam and every part of her feels happier at the sight.

"Probably won't see him again," Judy adds and Jen is ready to offer her commiserations until Judy carries on, "You know how you have that _feeling_ , when you just know when something is going to work..." Judy's eyes meet hers and she knows that they're holding their gaze a moment too long when Judy finally tears herself away, darting her eyes to the floor, "And, um, er, I don't think it would with _him_ ," Judy finishes, "Anyway, uh, how was your night?"

Jen almost laughs at the question, thinking over the realisations she's had since Judy had last been in the house several hours ago. Instead she just shrugs, "It was alright; Chris drank too much wine and whined about Alan for several hours..." Jen slides down into the corner of the sofa, Judy doing the same and she pulls a blanket over the pair of them.

"Oh really? Still having problems huh?" Judy asks and for a moment, as Judy arranges the throw over their laps, as she moves to sit closer to her, it feels so _right_ that it hurts.

"Mm, seems like it," Jen manages to respond and she stares steadfastly at the television as Judy's hand under the blanket settles on her thigh. It's not something she's never done before; Judy is so tactile, so affectionate and Jen knows it means nothing, that there's no subtext or hidden meaning but _god_ , now she realises how much she wishes there was. 

_Fucking_ Chris.

"You okay?" Judy asks and Jen can't respond; she can feel Judy's thumb gently stroking her thigh (Jen guesses that Judy, slightly tipsy, doesn't even realise she's doing it) and it's like fucking torture,"Jen?"

"Yeah, sorry, it's just been a weird night," _Really fucking weird_.

"'Oh?"

Jen shakes her head, "You don't want to know,"

Judy gives her a smile and seemingly accepts the response, starting to get comfortable on the couch, snuggling down further under the warm blanket that covers them both. Judy's hand stays resting on her thigh and she turns up turns up the volume slightly so they can hear the canned laughter and bad jokes. After several minutes of wordlessly watching, Judy's head starts to dip to to rest on Jen's shoulder and in the darkness of the lounge, Judy safe and warm next to _her_ , feeling her laugh gently at the television, Jen thinks she could live in this moment forever.

*

Over the next few days she flusters and blushes around Judy like a teenager with a crush; Jen is acutely aware of Judy's every movement, her every innocent touch and laugh. She over analyses and re-thinks and wonders when the _hell_ she began to feel nervous about coming home to see her and when she started re-touching her makeup before leaving the office in the evening?

_I like her._

And it's all so painfully fucking obvious now, Jen thinks as she sits at the kitchen island one evening, sipping wine and tapping aimlessly on her laptop; she watches Judy next to her, cheerfully cutting vegetables for dinner and seamlessly carrying a conversation with Henry about dinosaurs (his latest obsession) and Jen can't help but stare even though she's supposed to be working. She can't help but be drawn to watch Judy surreptitiously, as she laughs and plays along with Henry (then Charlie who slumps on the chair to watch television) to watch her be so natural and open with her affection for her sons. And out of nowhere, she feels so connected to the three of them, so grounded to the world and to the three people she loves more than anyone; she feels so moved by this woman who's fucking co-parenting her kids with her and has become the most important adult in her life.

_I_ really _fucking like her._

And it terrifies her because the more she cares then the more she has to lose. And the more it hurts when she inevitably does.

Later that night, after the boys go to their rooms and the dishes are done, Jen takes the wine to the sofa and Judy follows, frowning at her phone.

"You okay?"

"Oh yeah," Judy taps away on the screen, "It's just that guy I went on a date with the other night -"

" Er, Mr _Nice_ Guy?" Jen asks, feeling faintly nauseous as Judy laughs lightly.

"Yeah, him. He just messaged me asking if I wanted to go out again," Judy sits down, tucking herself onto the sofa, looking contemplative.

"Oh, right," Jen tries vainly to remain neutral and non-plussed, "You - uh, you going to?"

Judy shrugs, "Don't know," She reaches for the wine bottle, "He was nice..."

_Yeah, I remember._

"But I just dont feel like there's anything there, y'know?" Judy sighs and then winces, "Then again, it's been a _while_...." Jen manages a weak smile, "I'm just a bit...lonely...I guess?"

_I know_ , Jen thinks.

"Do you feel that way too?"

Jen thinks of kissing her, touching Judy's skin, sliding her fingers into her hair, showing her _exactly_ what she feels.

"I don't think you should go on a date with him,"

"Why?" Judy looks genuinely confused and Jen doesn't know how to articulate what she wants to say, the sense of something bigger than them that brought them together and that it's fucking _impossible_ to think of anyone (anything) other than _her_.

She turns to Judy and out of nowhere, it's like she can't help herself, like she can't stop herself wanting something she knows that she doesn't deserve but still, she surges forward, crashing her lips into Judy's without a word. And when Judy freezes for half a second, she's sure that this was the worst fucking mistake (out of a _lot_ of big fucking mistakes) that she's made.

Except it isn't. Judy then responds almost instantly, her hands moving to tangle in Jen's hair, almost to hold her in place (as if there was anywhere else in the world she would want to be) and _fuck_ , when Judy moans as their mouths open to each other, when Judy grabs her waist to pull her closer, Jen thinks she might combust on the spot.

They kiss hungrily and messily, all tongues and heat and and then Judy's moving to straddle her without breaking their kiss, Jen's hands trail down Judy's back and Judy grinds against her lap and _god_ , it feels better than she could have ever imagined, "Fuck _yes_ ," Jen sighs as Judy starts to kiss her way down her neck and Jen's hand is halfway up Judy's dress.

"Mom?" Henry's voice comes from just outside in the hallway.

" _Fuck_ ," Jen hisses and they spring apart, jumping off the sofa and rearranging their clothes and mussed hair in the few seconds before Henry walks into the lounge, rubbing his eyes.

"Mom, I'm thirsty,"

"Hey Boop," Her voice is artificially cheery as she greets him with a hug and strokes his hair; she can see Judy out of the corner of her eye trying to gather herself. Henry yawns and his arms circle her waist, "I'll get you a drink," She doesn't look at Judy once as she goes to the kitchen for some water.

She grabs a glass from the cabinet and her head races as she tries to slow the pounding of her heart. _Shit shit shit. What the fuck were they about to do?_

She turns the faucet deliberately slowly, trying to give herself some time to think. Was she really about to fuck her best friend on the couch, when her kids could walk in at any minute? Was she really about to ruin the only real friendship she's had? And for what? A few nights of sex and then to watch everything inevitably crumble?

Jen takes a deep breath at the kitchen sink; she _can't_ lose Judy , she just can't. Her heart feels like it's caving in when she realises that she needs to be a better person, to preserve their friendship over her feelings. She needs to protect Judy from the fucking mess she turned her marriage to Ted into; she can't lose Judy to arguments and tears and anger and fucking _misery_.

_It's better to have some of her forever, then having and then losing all of her._ She says it like a mantra in her mind, that friendship has to be enough for her, that she refuses to fuck them both up because of her selfish desires and end up pushing Judy away, like she always _fucking does_. She can't put her boys through losing someone else they love.

And it'll hurt for a bit, she knows that. She knows it'll hurt like a motherfucking bitch but it'll be okay in the end. It has to be. And yeah, maybe she'll fucking hate seeing Judy with someone else, but at least she'll _see_ her, get to make her laugh and touch her and hug her. It's better to cope with that than with them both sinking into a blaze of bitterness and recrimination and then face the rest of her life without _ever_ seeing her again.

She knows what she has to do.

"I'll come up in a second baby," She says as she returns, handing the glass to him and kissing the top of his head; Henry wanders off, mumbling a goodnight to Judy who is standing awkwardly next to the sofa, eyes darting everywhere but at Jen.

Jen listens to Henry moving up the stairs (out of hearing distance) and she finally looks over at Judy.

"Jen, I -" Judy starts.

"What we just did..." Jen interrupts quietly because she can't let Judy say something they'll both regret, and she can't quite meet Judy's eyes, "We just need to forget it okay?" Jen pauses and the words feel like they're physically hurting her to say, "I've had too many wines and - well, we just need to forget it happened,"

"Oh," Judy sighs and Jen just manages to catch a look pass over Judy's face before she forces a smile to her lips that Jen knows is false, "Sure, _yeah_ , no, you're right,"

Jen fucking hates herself.

"It was just a silly mistake right?" Jen says and there's an urge in her voice, begging Judy to accept it, to agree and not to make this harder than it needs to be, "We'll laugh about it in a few days,"

Judy winces for such a small moment that Jen almost misses it before the fake smile is back on her face, "Yeah, no, _absolutely_ ,"

"Okay,"

"Okay,"

_Fuck_.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry. Though the next chapter is drafted so that's something.


	3. (jen & judy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments so far - I appreciate them so much. I've been nervous about posting this chapter so I hope it's enjoyable enough for you all.

They manage to avoid each other as much as possible for two people who live in the same house.

She works more overtime than she's ever done in her life and she's sure Jen is doing the same; her car is absent from the drive more often than not and the boys end up coming to her with questions about homework or what dinner they're going to have.

She tries not to think about that night. She tries not to think about how Jen's lips felt under her own, how soft her skin was, how no-one had ever kissed her quite like _that_ , how she'd never wanted _anyone_ as desperately as she had in that moment.

And despite her surprise at what Jen had started, it felt so natural and easy, like it was something they should have been doing all along.

And then Jen had closed herself off, talked about _mistakes_ and _forgetting_ and out of somewhere, Judy had managed to smile through numb lips, nod along and pretend that she wasn't completely changed by what had just happened.

Henry doesn't seem to sense anything different; her act of smiling through pain is a practiced art form and she manages to play her part to perfection. Charlie, as always, seems more dubious although he doesn't confront her but instead gives her sideways glances and eye rolls when she (not so subtly) sidesteps talking about Jen or being remotely in her presence.

It works well enough, their schedule of avoidance, despite the fact that Judy feels like she has everything and nothing all at once; she has somewhere to live (a _home_ ), a job, a friendship that means more to her than anything and yet, she feels like she's lost the potential of something so life changing that it would dwarf everything else in comparison.

It's five days since she's properly seen or spoken to Jen when Henry bursts into the guest house telling her they're all going for dinner. She tries to think of an excuse but her brain stumbles and before she realises, she's sat in the front seat of the car next to an equally uncomfortable Jen.

"Hi," She ventures quietly as Charlie slides into the seat behind her, earphones plugged in and Henry buckles his seat belt.

"Hi," Jen replies stiffly and Judy hates everything about it.

She tries vainly not to look at Jen despite the fact that her outfit makes Judy's mouth go dry. They're not doing _this_ and she doesn't get to look at Jen like _that_. Instead she stares out of the window, listens to Henry's chatter and wishes the evening away.

The restaurant is nice; it's homely and the food is good. She's not sure why they've chosen to go out to eat but she doesn't question it because that means more interaction with Jen, more conversations that feel stilted and uncomfortable and make her regret everything they've done.

"Judy, are you okay?" Henry asks whilst they choose their desserts; he looks at her with such concern and she tries to smile as she feels Jen's eyes on her immediately; she wonders if there's a warning or maybe a plea in her gaze ( _please don't make this difficult, please don't make it harder than it already is_ ) but she refuses to look at her, "You're really quiet,"

"I'm fine," She attempts a reassuring smile, "Just don't feel too good that's all,"

_Don't look at her, don't look at her_.

"Oh, okay," He seems to accept her excuse and goes back to contemplating between chocolate ice cream or strawberry but Charlie is watching her curiously (and she refuses to think about what Jen is doing) so she just stares intently at the dessert menu and waits for it to be over.

It's dark outside when they finally leave and just as they reach the parking lot, Henry decides that he needs the bathroom.

"Fine," Jen sighs wearily, "Char, will you go with him?" He rolls his eyes (and Judy is sure he never looks more like Jen's son than when he does that) and follows Henry back to the restaurant.

Judy lingers by the car as Jen rummages through her purse for the keys, muttering various curse words as she fails to locate them. Finally, she pulls them out but instead of unlocking the car, she looks at Judy, meets her eyes and sighs.

"Judy, I -"

"Jen, I -"

"I'm sorry," Jen says quietly, almost a whisper and Judy isn't quite sure what she's hearing, "I'm sorry that I kissed you and I'm sorry that I made things so uncomfortable between us. I shouldn't have done it,"

"I'm glad you did," The words slip out before Judy has time to think about them.

"What?" Jen looks (unsurprisingly) taken aback.

"I'm glad you did," Judy smiles ruefully, and she doesn't realise how much she means it until she says it out loud, "I mean, getting rejected afterwards wasn't exactly a highlight but I'm glad you kissed me and -"

This time, she knows what Jen's going to do; she can see it coming and she forces herself to memorise every second of it (the look in Jen's eye, the smell of her perfume) and she moulds to Jen's will, letting her back get pushed against the car, Jen's body pressed against her own as she kisses her soundly, setting every cell in her body on fire as Jen's hand grips her waist, pulling Judy against her.

They aren't supposed to be doing this, they agreed not to do this.

Too soon, she feels Jen change, realise what she's done (again) and she moves away breathlessly, taking several steps back and Judy misses the contact instantly.

"I thought - I thought we weren't supposed to do _that_ again," Judy says, watching Jen carefully under the street lights, in the darkness of a Laguna night.

"Yeah," Jen shudders out a breath and Judy can sense the regret in Jen's voice, denial already in motion, "We weren't,"

"Well, why did yo-"

But they both hear the sound of Charlie and Henry approaching in the distance, their footsteps and playful chatter rising above the silence of the parking lot. Their eyes meet and Judy already knows how this goes.

As they leave the parking lot and drive home, Judy wonders what the hell she's doing.

*

Jen lies awake, staring at the ceiling and makes a decision.

She decides that she's going to put all these messy, untameable feelings that she shouldn't have (feelings that she _can't_ have) in a box and she's going to fasten that box named 'Judy' so tightly and she'll just forget everything it contains; every little thought she has about Judy that ventures into a dangerous world beyond friendship will be locked in that box and she'll just forget it; just like _that_. It'll live in the background of her consciousness, next to boxes about her father and about her mother and about grief too painful to face.

She knows, rationlly, that it's the worst possible thing to do, that the box will open at some point in a way that even Pandora would envy and it'll all come out in a blaze of anger and rage and a sadness that will probably ruin everybody, and will most certainly destroy the possibility of something she can't let herself want.

But there are no other options.

So she'll try to forget, and she will let Judy go; she will let her drift away, and make her own life apart from her, meet someone that deserves her and Jen will try fucking hard to be happy for her and she'll have a smile that Judy won't believe and yeah, denial might not just be a river in Egypt but it's all she's got.

*

The third time, Judy kisses _her_.

She finds Jen on a Thursday night, standing against the kitchen counter in an oversized hoodie and baggy joggers, staring into mid-air; she looks sad and tired and Judy's pretty sure that Jen doesn't even realise she's entered the room.

"Hey," She ventures quietly so she doesn't surprise Jen with her presence, "You okay?"

Jen looks up at her, wary at first but she sighs bitterly, "Hm, not particularly,"

And Judy knows that she should leave it at that, that she should obey her self imposed rules about staying away from Jen, to keep her at arm's length and not let herself fall even deeper.

But she can't help herself.

"What's wrong?" She asks softly and she hates that she can't resist Jen, that she never could.

"Lorna,"

"Ohhh," Judy doesn't need to ask any more, doesn't need to question it further; the one word response is enough. She comes to rest against the counter but keeps a respectful distance away; she can't keep touching Jen, holding her hand and hugging her because it feels like slow torture, and her heart can't keep enduring it.

"Yeah, it was another installment of the delightful fucking weekly chat on how I disappoint my sons,"

Judy winces to herself, "You know it's not true right?" She tries to console her and resist the urge to rub Jen's arm or to hold her hand, "She does this all the time, she just wants to rile you,"

Jen huffs, "She's certainly done that,"

There's a silence that falls over them and Judy knows she shouldn't say anything more, that she's opening a door that she won't be able to close.

"What's wrong?" She asks at last, because it's _Jen_ and it's _her_ and she's starting to think she's got so many feelings that it's impossible for her to stop then, "You don't normally let her get to you like this,"

"Yeah, well -" Jen mutters, pointedly doesn't look at Judy and instead just glances at the floor, "It's been a weird few weeks."

"Oh," And Judy doesn't know what else to say because it _has_ and she's barely keeping it together either.

"Maybe she's right," Jen sighs ruefully, "I'm a fucking screw up of a person, I hurt fucking everyone, so I must be a screw up of a mother too,"

_You're not_ , Judy wants to say, _you're perfect and you're all I can think about._

"You're not a screw up at _all_ and you're a wonderful mom," Judy tries to sound reassuring and gestures upstairs, "Those boys think the world of you,"

"Yeah _right_ ,"

"They _do_ and no matter what Lorna says, it's the truth and I'm not going to stop reminding you of that,"

Judy sees the tears in the corners of Jen's eyes and for a second, she can see Jen clearly and she knows that this isn't really about Lorna or the boys or her insecurities about her parenting skills; instead, she sees a reflection of herself in Jen.

_I know, I'm struggling too_ , she wants to say, _I want to be with you so much it hurts._

And for a moment, Judy doesn't _care_ about anything that they've agreed or pretended doesn't exist between them. She moves slowly to Jen and takes her face in her hands and kisses her chastely and slowly; she feels Jen's mouth open to her and Judy's suddenly desperate to show Jen everything she feels in one kiss.

_I think I love you_ , she tries to tell her without words.

Jen finally pulls away and Judy braces herself.

"Judy, I -"

"Don't," Judy interrupts softly, "It's okay, I know,"

She so badly doesn't want to hear it, she doesn't want Jen to say it out loud because all she wants to do is pretend a little longer that she has the woman she wants, the _life_ she wants. She doesn't want to hear more denials, more repression or to hear how the one thing Judy has found herself wanting more than anything is a yet another _mistake_.

Judy leaves the kitchen without looking back.

*

One day, several nights later, when she's had too many wines on her own and listened to too much Joni Mitchell, Judy decides that she's just going to accept it, that she's going to acknowledge where she finds herself, and live around the truth that she might just be in love with her best friend.

She's going to allow herself to be honest, recognise that her feelings for Jen go far beyond what she could ever disguise as friendship and then she's just going to...be _okay_ with it.

She's starting to realise now that how she feels about Jen, and how deeply she feels it, is just part of her; it touches every part of her, colours everything and these feelings have just become part of who she is now.

But she'll accept it and move forward around a truth that she can't name or speak of. She's sure that how she feels won't fade, because if these feelings were to ever wither or die , then now would be the time, amid Jen's sharp avoidance and denial, but they don't; they grow stronger and stronger and she's sure she'll never be quite the same again.

So she's going to smile and laugh and co-parent Jen's kids and maybe she'll be able to get close to Jen again, like they used to be, and maybe she can rescue something from this fire and it won't be what she wants so desperately but she'll have _something_ and that'll have to be okay.

*

The fourth time they kiss, Jen doesn't see it coming. And she doesn't think Judy does either.

They haven't seen or spoken to each other in days and when she sees Judy stroll into the kitchen, unaware of her presence, it's like the sun has started fucking shining out of nowhere.

"Oh," Judy says, clearly surprised to see her sat at the kitchen island on a Friday afternoon, in front of her laptop, "I, er, didn't think you were going to be here,"

"My viewing was cancelled so I thought I'd come home to work, plus the boys are with Lorna so..." Jen eyes her nervously as Judy goes to the refrigerator, pulling out a container of juice, "Didn't think you would be home either,"

"Art class was cut short," Judy tells her and Jen hates how obviously desperate she is to get away from her; she's trying so hard to deny what she wants, just to maintain some semblance of their friendship and now she's losing it all anyway, no matter what she does.

Judy grabs a glass for the orange juice and Jen purposefully stares steadfastly at the computer screen.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to pounce on you," Judy mutters under her breath and Jen is sure that Judy didn't mean for that to be heard.

"Jude -" Jen sighs as Judy heads to the door, "Don't be like that,"

"Like what?" Judy stops her exit from the kitchen and turns round with an exaggerated smile on her face and Jen knows that there are tears in her eyes and Jen fucking hates that she's caused this mess, "I'm doing what you asked, pretending _this_ is nothing...Until the next time you want to stop ignoring me so you can stick your tongue down my throat,"

Jen winces at the words, so unlike Judy and Jen can't stand what she's turning them both into, "Judy _please_..." Except Jen doesnt know what she's asking for ( _Please don't make me hate myself more, please don't look at me like that because I'm so close to giving in_ ) and all she can think of is how much she wants Judy, how much she wishes she could have her and not ruin _everything_.

"No, no, it's okay, I know," Judy shakes her head, "You don't want me, it's fine," Judy puts down the glass and walks to where Jen is sitting and she's so close but so _fucking_ far away, "But we keep doing this and I keep pretending it's okay but it's not, not for _me,_ " She sighs and she sounds so _tired_ , "I can't keep pretending I don't feel anything when I do,"

"Jude -"

"So, I've been thinking and - I think maybe I need to get away for a while, maybe move out, try to...."

_Forget_ _you_ , Jen finishes in her head. _Move on and forget you._

"What?" _Please don't leave me. Pleasepleaseplease._

"I _can't_ keep doing this," Judy looks physically pained, her lip wobbles and Jen knows she's desperately trying to keep herself from falling apart, "I thought that I could, and I'm trying so hard to be okay with this, but I can't be here and not be with you,"

Jen's breath hitches and she's so fucking close to losing Judy forever and this time, there won't be any coming back from it.

"Judy, don't _please_ , this is your home... it's _our_ home, " Jen knows she's begging but the panic is rising through her chest and it's suffocating; she leans forward, grabbing Judy's hands in her own, pulling her closer to where she sits, "This is where you belong," She knows now that she's going to end up ruining everything if she doesn't fucking _say_ something, something fucking _real_.

Unwanted visions flash through Jen's mind of Judy making a new life without her, slowly forgetting her; she thinks of another woman holding her hand and that some other woman will be living the life with her that Jen was supposed to have, "You belong _here_ , with _me_ ,"

And then Judy's kissing her out of nowhere, forcefully and messily and Jen's responding like she always wanted to, like nothing else exists. She grabs at Judy's waist, pulling her to the stool between her legs, and she's kissing her like she never has before, like she knows it means _more_ this time. Her hands roam Judy's body, and Jen's fingers slides over the soft skin of Judy's hips, her back and when they graze the underside of Judy's bra, she sighs and she can feel Judy smile against her lips.

_I don't ever want to be anywhere else_.

Jen pulls herself away reluctantly, and Judy's eyes are so bright and alive and Jen _feels_ it, feels like maybe she's going to let herself be fucking _happy_ , "Do you want to go upstairs?"

And this time they don't stop.

*


	4. (jen)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I can't write smut _at all_ so apologies for how bad this is.  
> (Also, thank you again for your lovely comments, you're all so kind)

"Do you want to go upstairs?"

As Jen asks, she knows that things are changing now, that they won't come back from this, knows that they can't. She knows that after she's touched Judy (after she's kissed every part of her body in the ways she's spent too many nights alone imagining) it will never be like it was before.

But maybe she deserves it to change. Maybe she should be _allowed_ this.

Judy sighs against her lips, "Yes,"

And Jen realises, as she leads Judy out the kitchen by her hand, that this had been inevitable; she was always going to want her and that no matter what their history (no matter what their crimes against other people and against each other) she was always going to fall in love with this woman. She was destined to press her up against the wall at the bottom of the stairs like this, to kiss her, to slide her hands up her shirt slowly, taking her time, memorising every touch, every moan, _everything_.

"I want you _so_ much," Judy whispers after Jen moves to kiss her neck; she releases the words into the mid-afternoon quiet of the house; Jen pauses and moves to look her in the eyes.

"Me too," And she means it more than she thought possible; she feels tears well in her eyes because she's just so fucking happy they're finally _here_ , "Come on," She takes Judy's willing hand and they stumble up the stairs, kissing every few steps just because they _can_ ; Judy giggles and smiles into their kisses and Jen feels like she's floating.

When they finally reach her bedroom, sunlight floods through the room like a cruel taunt and familiar prickles of self-loathing creep through her stomach and she wants to rush to the blinds, to pull them closed, to shut out the rays of sunshine that she can't hide away from; she wants darkness, lights off, the cloak of night to obscure her flaws. 

Except, she doesn't want to miss Judy - she doesn't want anything to be dulled, she wants to see everything of _her_ , she wants to remember every second of it and somehow, that's _enough_.

Judy crawls back on the bed, practically dragging Jen on top of her, and Jen slowly starts to strip Judy of her clothing between heated kisses, piece by piece. She can't help but smile as Judy urges her on, hands clawing at her back, her body writhing underneath her, desperate for pressure, to be close to her. When she removes Judy's bra, it feels so surreal that she can finally kiss skin she's dreamt about and Judy's just as soft (and responsive) as Jen had imagined. She lavishes attention on every part of Judy's chest, kissing and licking and when she bites gently, she hears a gasp of satisfaction and it settles right in Jen's body, and it feels so much like love.

After several moments, Jen sits up to stradde Judy's waist and starts to lift her shirt, pushing down her insecurities (trying to stifle the hatred she feels for herself as the unforgiving afternoon sunlight streams into the room, where there is no escape from her wounds and scars) because she wants to be the woman that she knows Judy deserves.

Jen feels Judy propping herself up on her elbows, watching her intently and Jen tries not to buckle under her scorching gaze, "Holy _shit_ ," Judy breathes, and she feels suddenly emboldened by Judy's obvious desire for her, so fucking wanted in a way that she had forgotten was possible. When she's about to reach around to remove her bra, she feels Judy's hands, "Wait," She says gently, "Can I do it?"

Jen nods and she feels Judy's light fingers on the clasp and her eyes are tightly shut when she slowly moves the straps down her arms and soon enough, she's exposed completely to Judy's eyes, "God, you are so sexy," Judy sighs the words, sounds so awestruck that for that moment, Jen believes it.

And when she sees Judy's eyes dark with lust, she feels like she's being worshipped, like she's fucking worth something, and that maybe she _deserves_ to feel like this because it's Judy ( _her_ Judy) and she trusts her more than anyone else in the world.

"You okay?" She tilts her head, and Jen knows Judy's concerned about her, always able to read the minute change in her expression, the slight furrow in her brow.

Jen's only answer is to lean down and kiss her (and she knows now that she never wants to stop) then biting Judy's lip before she kisses her neck, her shoulders, and then continues down Judy's body, teasing moans and gasps out of Judy's lips that she's already addicted to hearing.

She finally removes Judy's underwear, tugging it down her legs and settles between her thighs, placing her lips delicately on Judy's stomach and she can feel her squirming in anticipation.

"You -" Judy tries to tell her through her sighs as Jen kisses her hip, then lower and lower, "You don't have to - _god_ \- do _that_ , if you don't want -"

"I want," Jen finishes and their eyes meet in the afternoon sun, and there's nowhere to run anymore, nowhere to hide, "I absolutely _do_ want,"

So she does.

There's a nervous excitement that thrums through Jen's body as she realises that this is _it_ ; there's no more denial, no more pretense or hiding behind friendship anymore. She can't explain this away, and she knows that she can no longer maintain that they're just platonic when she's about to go down on her best friend. She kisses the apex of Judy's thigh, and Judy shifts with need; Jen's so desperate to fuck her that it physically hurts and _god_ , how had she not realised she was into women before this. 

She kisses her thigh again, dragging her tongue to where she knows Judy wants her, where she's begging for her; her tongue teases and dips and curls and Jen guesses she must learn fucking quickly because soon Judy's writhing and bending, her hand sinks into Jen's hair and Jen can't help but look up for just a moment, because there is no way she can miss Judy's head thrown back, the gasps and breathy moans.

And when she stops momentarily to look, Judy practically whines, "Please Jen, god, _please_ ," She pleads and Jen can't resist her (never could) and she continues in earnest, confidence growing, and she realises that maybe she's changed forever now as she reaches up, intertwines her fingers with Judy's other hand, squeezes tightly as she pushes Judy to the edge.

She feels Judy reach her climax, feels her body shudder and tense, and she continues, lightly coaxing Judy through her orgasm until she pushes her head away, "Oh god, you are too good at that," Judy manages breathlessly and Jen laughs as she crawls back up the bed, wiping her mouth and collapses on the pillow next to her.

Jen can't take her eyes off her; she looks so fucking _beautiful_ in a way she could never have imagined another person to look. _Is this what I've been missing out on all this time?_

Jen moves closer, moulding around Judy's body and her hands flutter over Judy's stomach, her waist, her hips and they skate further down and down, and Judy murmurs her enthusiasm as her fingers sink down to where Judy's still eager for her touch and she lets out a satisfied sigh when Jen reaches her clit, " _Yes_..."

Jen's fingers dance and tease and she reacts to Judy's every breathy whimper, moving with less and less hesitation each time as she learns what Judy wants, what she needs.

Judy pulls her into a dirty kiss, all teeth and tongues, whispers in her ear, "I want you inside me," and Jen groans at the words and she dips her fingers inside and Judy is wet and open and undulates against her. She's so soft and warm and it feels like fucking heaven and how the _fuck_ had she lived without this for so long?

She fucks Judy exactly how she'd imagined on lonely horny nights with just her vibrator for company, where she'd conjured Judy's image in her head (apparently the only way she can get off any more) and the feeling of being inside her, of being so totally joined to the woman she's been fantasising about for longer than she wants to admit, makes her wetter than she's ever been in her life. 

"Faster," Judy pleads breathlessly, "Fuck me faster Jen," And Jen is more than happy to oblige, and it's a strange thought that her body seems to know exactly what to do, that she knows exactly how to drive Judy crazy, how to bring her to the edge again and again, how to get her to claw at Jen's back and leave marks that she'll feel for days.

She pumps her fingers and her thumb glides over Judy's clit, once, twice and then she's coming again, hips lifting from the mattress and Jen can only look on in wonder.

Judy sinks into the bed and Jen leaves her fingers for a moment, slowly moving, bringing her through the end, enjoying the satisfied sighs and the hand around her neck, keeping her close, Judy bringing her into another kiss that Jen wishes would never end.

It does though, and they part and Jen doesn't want to ruin the moment so it takes everything she has not to beg Judy to fuck her because after all that, after seeing Judy like _that_ , she's so close already.

"Wow," Judy says, eyes closed voice soft in her post orgasmic haze, "That was...."

"Fucking incredible?"

Judy laughs and Jen loves the lightness, the happiness that she can hear. _I did that_ , she thinks, _that's_ me.

"Yeah, I mean, maybe not how I would have phrased it but yeah..." She opens her eyes to meet Jen's gaze, her fingers dancing down Jen's bare torso, "' I think 'fucking incredible' is right,"

Their faces are still practically pressed together and the way that Judy looks up at her through her lashes, coquettisly as if she hadn't just begged Jen to fuck her harder, makes Jen want to do it all over again.

"Round two?" She asks but she knows there's a hint of caution in her question that she can't get away from - the implications are loud and unavoidable because having sex _again_ , actively making this choice, means it's not a mistake any more; it's not a misjudgement made in the heat of the moment, blinded by passion and desire. It's a clear and definite choice to do this, to have sex again with her best friend and to keep on changing what they've already started to unravel.

Judy shakes her head and momentarily, for half a second, Jen's heart sinks and she's wondering how quickly she can cover herself with the sheet, how quickly she can hide away in the soft afternoon sunshine and avoid Judy's intense gaze.

"Hm, more like 'round one' for you...." Relief settles in her stomach and the fear that Judy had seen her, had seen every part of her and not wanted her, ebbs away as fast as it had arrived. Then Judy fucking _winks_ at her and rolls Jen onto her back, and she feels like she's going to come right there.

Judy's hand traces over her breasts, softly and gently and Jen tries to calm her racing heart, tries to calm the anxiety that Judy can feel the scars and the abnormalities in her body but instead of hesitance or disgust, Judy just sighs dreamily, "God, I've wanted to touch you like this for so long," and Jen can hear the truth in how she speaks, she can feel it in how Judy touches her. She places light, sweet kisses on her chest and Jen squirms under her lips, wanting and needing so much more and she aches for Judy to touch her.

And she does, _slowly_.

Judy peels off her underwear, sliding them down her legs and when they're quickly discarded over her shoulder, Jen feels so exposed to Judy's eyes, so open and unused to anyone touching her but a husband of fifteen years who'd grown tired of her and her faults but when Judy finally touches her, she's never felt so safe, never felt so wanted by anyone.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Judy groans in her ear as her fingers start to explore Jen, confidently and without hesitation as if they've been doing this together for years, "Jen, you're so wet," Jen's hips keen upwards, chasing Judy's fingers,"God, you feel so good,"

And Jen does feel good, more than she thought she was capable of as Judy continues her ministrations and Jen feels it building already, "Yesss," She hisses as Judy slips her fingers inside her, "Fuck, yes _Judy_ ,"

The sighed response from Judy, the way Jen can just _sense_ how much it turns her on when she says her name, when she reminds Judy that it's _them_ , finally, at last, encourages Jen to be more vocal than she's ever felt secure enough to be, "I want you to make me come baby," She whispers in Judy's ear and Judy practically _moans_ at the words, "Make me come Judy," Jen begs her breathily, "I want you to fuck me so hard, Judy, _please_..."

Judy's pace intensifies and Jen is so close to the edge as Judy curls her fingers again, just right, and then suddenly, she's there; her entire body shudders and she feels like she's on fire, and shit, it's _never_ felt like this before, where she can barely think or _breathe_ , like she feels the whole world has fallen away apart from _them_. Eventually, Judy's fingers start to slide out of her slowly, not before swiping gently over her clit, another jolt of pleasure shooting through her.

Jen thinks she probably should feel embarrassed by the fact she's orgasming on her best friend's fingers in the middle of a weekday afternoon, that she's let every single fucking one of her carefully erected barriers down and that Judy is seeing _all_ of her but she feels so fucking _good_ that she can't bring herself to care as she pulls Judy in for a lazy, unhurried kiss and she can feel the other woman smiling against her lips.

Judy pulls away, far enough so they can see each other properly and it's strange, from her place on the pillow, to see Judy; the woman who mere seconds ago had been inside her, that her made her come like she hadn't ever done before, but still _Judy_ , her quirky, sweet best friend who makes pancakes for breakfast and reads about crystals and auras. _Her_ Judy.

_Mine_ , she thinks out of nowhere, _please be mine._

"You're so beautiful," Judy says quietly, like she means it, in the way that Judy means everything she says.

And she's almost taken aback at Judy's words (instead, had maybe expected some gentle tease about how ready she had been, how quick she had come apart under Judy's fingers) and she has to swallow the tearful emotion that it brings, that it's been so goddamn long since she's been with anyone, let alone someone who looks at her like _that_ , like she's fucking _perfect_ and tells her she's beautiful and makes her believe it.

"So are you," Jen manages to respond eventually, before kissing her again, almost chastely, pressing their lips together like she just wants to absorb as much of Judy as possible, "You're the most beautiful person I've ever known," Judy's smile in response is so bright and genuine and real and everything Jen feels like she doesn't deserve but is so desperate to hang on to.

They settle under the sheets, pulled up around their waists, and Judy tucks her head under Jen's chin, lips against her neck and she presses a kiss to the skin she finds there, her arm casually slung over Jen's torso as though they haven't just changed everything completely, _forever_.

"We should probably talk about this," Judy says softly after a few moments; her voice is hesitant, and uncertain and Jen knows Judy doesn't want to break the comfortable peace they've created.

"Yeah," She replies, her fingers trailing down Judy's bare arm, just because she wants to and she _can_ , "I guess we should,"

*

It's dark when she wakes.

Instead of rays of Californian sun, there's moonlight casting a dim illumination over the bedroom; it's just light enough to make out the shape of hastily discarded clothing on the floor and the outline of Judy sleeping next to her.

She's never been the type of person to watch someone sleep, not with Ted and certainly not with the few before him that had never really mattered at all. But she watches Judy doze in the half light, and her heart clenches in her chest like one of the cliched romantic novels that her mother used to read and then hide under the sofa, away from her young prying eyes.

And Jen _knows_ now, she's sure of it; she knows that she loves Judy with an intensity that takes her breath away, so different to how she's ever loved before. She had loved Ted, had been in love with him for so long, had been happy to bear his children and create a life together. But she had never felt quite like _this_ , had never loved so fiercely, had never felt quite so strongly that they were _meant_ for each other (she knows Judy would love that sentiment, that element of destiny that Jen can't help thinking of despite her inner cynic). She loves Judy in a way that she's not sure she'll ever completely understand; they've done so many things, so many _awful_ things, and yet all she can think about is her face, her eyes, her body, the _goodness_ she radiates and Jen can't stop wanting her, now that she's realised the truth of what she feels, and she doesn't think she ever will be able to turn back what has been set free.

__

__

Judy stirs in her sleep, as though she's about to wake, and panic floods Jen's body; she had been sure it would be sex that would be the hard part, to let herself go, to try to be at ease enough with herself for someone else to want her. But it's everything that comes _after_ , how everything changes, how it moves and adjusts beyond her control, that's the part she now realises is the hardest, and she's not sure how she's supposed to cope with what comes next.

*


	5. (judy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I literally hate this chapter; I've been working on it for a month and I still hate it. 
> 
> I struggle writing from Judy's perspective (I'm such a Jen) so apologies in advance.
> 
> Thanks for all your lovely comments so far on this fic (and my others). I appreciate it more than you know. 
> 
> Also, shoutout to dtm stan twitter; all your fics, edits, gifs and fancams keep giving me inspiration <3

Judy tries to dampen the dread that starts to slowly build in her stomach when she opens her eyes and sees the empty space in the bed next to her, the space where Jen should be, where Judy wants her to be more than anywhere in the world. She stares at it for too long, as though if she just looks hard enough that Jen might just appear out of thin air with a sarcastic jibe and a glint in her eye, the one that says she doesn't mean it, that it's just to get a laugh out of her, just to make Judy roll her eyes and smile.

An unease creeps over her, one that tastes like rejection and denial and everything she was so sure that they had left behind.

She gets up, eventually, and quickly rummages through a drawer to find an old, well-loved college t-shirt that smells of Jen and she has to resist the urge to bury her face in it. Instead, she just pulls on a pair of worn joggers that she desperately hopes weren't Ted's and finds the house unlit as she carefully pads barefoot through the hallway, down the stairs, in the darkness of the night.

She sees light from the back garden patio doors, a warm orange hue of the patio lighting that she knows so well, from hours of drinking wine and laughing and flirting shamelessly with Jen, when everything felt so much easier than _this_.

When she opens the door, Jen doesn't move, just continues to stare at the table from her place on the couch, a blanket pulled over her lap and Judy's suddenly desperate to be as far away as possible; she wants to go to the guest house, climb under the covers and pretend nothing's changed between them and that when she wakes up tomorrow, everything will be like it was before and they haven't ruined everything irrevocably.

"Hey," She says quietly, hovering awkwardly at the end of the sofa, hesitant in a way that she hasn't felt in this house for months, not since the time she thinks of as 'After Steve' when she had felt so unsure of her place, wary of Jen's thoughts, where every word felt like a grenade ready for explosion.

"Hey," Jen replies at last, and Judy can hear something sad in her voice and how she's holding herself, and she knows that it's because of her, because of _them_ and yearns for the uncertainty of when Jen first kissed her, wishes she could feel like that again, where everything was unknown and there was the hope, the _possibility_ of something between them instead of _this_.

"You okay?" Judy asks like she wants to know, as if she doesn't want to hide away and cry. She doesn't want to know, not really, doesn't want to hear any of it; after everything Jen had made her feel only hours ago, the looming rejection feels like a sucker punch.

"Yeah, I guess," She sounds lost and Judy wishes she could do something, wishes she could tell Jen that she doesn't have to be lost; _I've found you_ , she wants to say, wants to kiss her until they're both breathless. But she knows she can't, knows that whatever they had (or _might_ have had) is likely now damaged beyond repair.

Judy slides down onto the other end of the sofa, pressed against the arm, maintaining the distance between them that she's been so diligent about until this afternoon ( _was it only this afternoon_ , she thinks, _only this afternoon when she hadn't known how Jen felt underneath her, how she tasted, how she looked when she came_ ). She tries not to think of better, happier times that they've had out here; of cuddling Jen on cold starry nights like this, alcohol loosening Jen to affection and when Judy could pretend that they were maybe getting close to being something they weren't.

Jen continues to stare at the table.

"I'm sorry," Jen says finally, turning to face her and Judy's heart drops at the shine in her eyes, the sadness written into every feature, "I'm sorry for all of this, I shouldn't have -"

_Please don't. Please don't._

Jen pauses, inhaling deeply, "I'm sorry for not being honest with you, back _then_..." Jen trails off, her voice slowly fading into the quiet night air and Judy knows that _then_ means their first kiss; the first time Judy had let herself acknowledge the feelings she had for Jen, that she craved something deeper and stronger than friendship, that what she felt for Jen, how she wanted her, wasn't anywhere near platonic.

"I'm sorry for letting you think things that weren't true, about _us_ ," Jen starts again, and she can hear the struggle in her voice, but Judy can't look at her; she can't look at Jen's hunched shoulders, her sad eyes and shaking hands. Instead she looks into the distance (at the pool, where only several days ago, all four of them had been playing in the water and god, how she wished she had realised then that it would never be the same again) and she pretends this is happening to someone else, that she'll wake up soon and it'll be a bad dream, "I should never have let it get this far,"

_No, no, please don't, we were so happy,_ she thinks desperately of a few hours ago, _how are we here? We were so happy and I made you smile when I told you were beautiful and it was_ real _, I know that it was, please, don't do this_.

But she says nothing and she doesn't even realise the tears are falling until she feels Jen's hand cautiously touch hers.

"Judy," Jen grips her hand, tightly this time, and Judy meets her gaze, and there's something _there_ , in Jen's eyes, in how she looks at her, that Judy can't quite place, that she can't quite read, "I should never have lied to you about how I felt,"

And this time, Jen doesn't look away, doesn't break eye contact, "I should never have ever let you feel like I didn't want you," Jen pauses, and Judy can tell she's gathering herself, "Because I did...because I _do_ ,"

_Oh_.

Jen shuffles closer, cautiously and slowly, still cradling her hand in her own, "I'm _so_ sorry for telling you it was a mistake that first night, and I should have been fucking honest and told you the truth back then," Jen pauses, exhaling a shaky breath, "I know it hurt you, that I said we should forget it at all," At that, Judy squeezes Jen's hand, can't help wanting to console her, support her because that's all she knows; that she wants to always make Jen feel better, make her feel happier and _loved_ , "And I clearly fucking couldn't forget it could I? Kept trying to stick my tongue down your throat,"

Judy remembers the words she'd thrown at Jen only that afternoon, "Well, I didn't exactly complain," She nudges Jen's shoulder playfully, getting a small smile and it makes Judy feel warm inside.

Silence falls over them and Judy desperately wants to fill it, wants to say something to stop the smile falling from Jen's lips, wants to kiss away Jen's self-criticism, her confusion and just leave Jen with _her_.

"Judy," Jen turns to face her, eyes shining with tears, "You deserve _so_ much more than anyone's ever given you," She pauses, inhaling, steeling herself to say something that Judy _knows_ she won't want to hear, "And I don't know how I can be that for you, I don't know _how_ I can be the person that you deserve,"

_You already are_.

"I don't know how to not ruin this like I ruined my marriage, the way I turned me and Ted into a complete fucking dumpster fire," There's a grim chuckle from Jen, a shake of the head and Judy so wants to kiss her, to kiss away every doubt she has about who she _is_ , "I'm not a good fucking person Judes, I'm really not," Jen meets her eyes at last, "And you deserve someone who's perfect,"

"Do I?" Judy asks her quietly, "I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not exactly perfect either," She pauses with a rueful smile, "And my last relationship was the dictionary definition of a toxic mess," Judy sighs, thinking of Steve and how she had thought she loved him, how she had thought that what she felt was _real_ love and how utterly wrong she had been, but how she knows it _now_ though, knows what really _loving_ someone means _now_.

"And yeah, we don't know what might happen," She shrugs, daring to reach forward, feeling brave enough to intertwine her fingers with Jen's, bringing her back to _them_ and _this_ and everything they could have, "This might be another dumpster fire in waiting, but also? It could be amazing Jen, because it's _us_ ," Jen looks at her with a tight, watery smile, "And I think we deserve to know, don't you?"

She squeezes Jen's hand lightly.

And Jen squeezes back.

Judy feels like the world stops turning, just for a moment.

"Yeah," Jen says at last, breathing out the words so quietly that Judy wonders if she's imagined them, "I think we do," Then Jen leans forward, almost hesitant and kisses her softly, and it feels like a promise, that they've changed and maybe this time, they're not going back.

Jen pulls away but only _just_ , her forehead resting against hers, "You know I can be a complete bitch right?"

"Well, I'm a chaotic hippy," She whispers back with a smile, "We'll make it work,"

It feels so good to be _this_ happy, Judy thinks.

When they kiss again, it's more heated, more reminiscent of that afternoon when she had been so desperate to give Jen _everything_ that she could.

But this time she kisses Jen without worrying she'll withdraw or pull away and claim a _mistake_.

And she knows it should scare her, the emotional weight she's resting on this undefined change in who they are to each other, but instead it's a strange mix of exciting yet safe; she wants Jen so badly, not just physically but emotionally and she wants every single part of her, in way that she's never felt with such intensity, such _certainty_. But there's reassurance there too, that Jen makes her feel so _safe_ and wanted in a way that she's never had, in a way that it had never been with Steve, where her place in his life was always resting on a knife edge, balanced precariously, where every thing she did or said had the potential to tumble their house of cards.

But all of those memories of rejection, of not being good enough or pretty enough or _enough_ , fall away because she's here with Jen; they walk through the house, hand in hand, exchanging messy kisses against the wall, then pressed up next to the refrigerator, and Judy's sure she's never seen anything as sexy as when Jen takes her hands in her own, facing her with a dark look in her eye, walking backwards, leading Judy to her bed.

Later, as she wraps herself in Jen's arms (their heated bodies cooling in the night air, Jen dragging the sheets up to their waists, a lazy kiss against Judy's temple) Judy thinks she might just have got her happy ever after.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, poor naïve Judy. I think there might just be some more angst to come, hm?


End file.
